nothing here to fear   i'm just sitting around being foolish   when there is work to be done   just a hang-up call   and the quiet breathing   of our persian   we call cajun on a wednesday    so we go from year to year   with secrets we've been keeping   though you say you're not a templar man    seems as if we're circling   for very different reasons   but one day the eagle has to land     out past the fountain a left by the station i start the day  in the usual way  then think -- well why not --   and stop for a coffee   then begin to recall things that   you say   no one's at the door   you suggest a ghost   perhaps a phantom   i agree with this in part   something is with us   i can't put my finger on  -- is thumbalina size 10 on a wednesday --   so we go you tell me   to cheer up   you suspect we're oddly even   even still   the eagle has to land   out past the fountain   pluck up the courage   and snap it's gone again   i start humming "when doves cry"   can someone help me   i think that i'm lost here   lost in a place called america